


Yule On Tarth

by ellethom



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Happy families are the same everywhere, Secret Santa, Took Some Liberties, wanted to have a happy type fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:59:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8878651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellethom/pseuds/ellethom
Summary: The title says it all...kinda





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greyathena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyathena/gifts).



> So, this is a fic for greyathena whose name I drew for the Secret Santa on JBIO. Her words were just Yule On Tarth. I could't resist. Hope you love it grey and I hope its what you were hoping for 
> 
> I made Brienne's siblings all alive because, i have never written that before.

“So, when are we leaving for Tarth?” Jaime asked her, she was mid dip into her spicy Yi Ti sauce. The chicken finger in her hand stopped midway, stuck in the glop that they called lunch. 

“I’m sorry?” she asked, certain her confusion and blush were as visible as the crooked nose on her face.

Jaime shrugged lazily and plucked the chicken strip from her fingers. “When. Are We. Leaving. For. Tarth.” He said as if considering a particularly slow child.

“I don’t recall inviting you.” They had been friends for a year, long enough to know each other in every way but one. The one that kept her up at night, twisted in her too hot blankets. The one that invaded her dreams, both nocturnal and waking. She wished he would stop looking at her that way.

He licked his long fingers and sat back dramatically. “You didn’t.” he shrugged with the ease of a man used to privilege and wealth. “So, when are we leaving.”

“I’m leaving on Friday.” Brienne hoped he was just being his usual annoying self. Jame was not above inviting himself into her personal life. He had shown up unannounced at her lunches; her home, and even her birthday get together at a bar that he had sworn to only be passing by. “Don’t you have a family thing?”

Jaime slid his hand into her fries again. “Not this year.”

“But I thought it was, as you put it, ‘mandatory.’”

He licked his fingers salaciously, an act Brienne was certain should be illegal in public. “The Lannister siblings are on strike.” 

“You don’t go on strike against your family.” She slapped at his hand as he again angled for another one of her curly fries.

“Against the family? No. Against a tyrant? Well, that is an altogether other situation.” 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

“To you, with your bustling family and happy family, yes it's ridiculous. To the Lannisters it's just another day.”

He’s shared everything with her, whether she had asked for the details of his sordid life or not. Jaime confessed to her like a man on Death Row. For the first year of their friendship, she was certain he thought her a septa. “You have nowhere to go for the holidays, then?”

Pity must have shown in her eyes, the one thing she knew Jaime could not stand, not since his hand became little more than a decoration at the end of his muscled arm. “No, no. Of course with unity comes other plans. We decided to band together in solidarity.” He pushed himself from the table and threw a handful of bills onto the table. “Have no fear, Wench. I will definitely not be alone for the holidays.” 

“Jaime,” Brienne said to his rapidly retreating form. Somehow she had offended him and knew he would go back to his too large office and pout it out, but not before biting someone’s head off along the way. Brienne paid the bill and made her way back to her own office, much smaller and less well it than that of the COO’s.

XXXXX

He had been avoiding her. She was certain of it. He even left early for his vacation. A fact she had to learn from Pia when she went to give him his gift before she headed out for Tarth. 

If Brienne thought the office didn't already harbor some sort of preconceived notions about their relationship, the look of pity in Pia’s face spoke volumes. Pia offered to take possession of the gift until Jaime’s return, but Brienne shook her head and exited the office with as much dignity as she could muster.

She wondered if he had gone to her. That her pity and refusal of joining her on Tarth had been some sort of catalyst to send him flying back into the arms of the most toxic relationship Brienne had ever been privy to.

She kicked herself mentally through the long drive to the airport in King’s Landing. She kicked herself for assuming she had that much say in Jaime’s life. She chided herself for the surprising tangent of jealousy the idea of him in Cersei’s arms rooted in her. She goaded herself into releasing all those feelings into the universe and allowing herself a grand ole time with her brother and sisters and their dad. 

It was Christmas after all.

By the time she made it to the last ferry to Tarth, Brienne was patting herself on the back for her ability to compartmentalize. She and Jaime’s were close friends, nothing more. She had no rights to him nor how he spent his time away from her.

She wished she had allowed him to come, if for nothing else than having a clear conscience for the week.

The livery driver tipped his hat to her as she made her way up the long drive to her ancestral home. She smiled as the front door opened before she reached the steps. Alysanne and Arianne spilled out of the front door in all of their preteen enthusiasm. Her sisters had come along when she was in high school and Brienne had been nothing short of thrilled to have them, even though their existence cost her the mother she had adored. Brienne never blamed them for it, she took on to mothering them like she knew her mother would have wanted. 

And she had convinced her father to hire a different nanny than the one she had had to suffer through.

The twins shared a conspiratory smirk with each other after hugging her and taking her bags. They gushed over how much they had missed her, school, boys and news on Tarth. They scurried upstairs once she made her way inside. 

The house always smelled alive, even with the different scents of the year. In the summer it smelled of sand, freedom and the sea. In the fall, the house took on a scent of spicy enticement. She knew her father would be in the kitchen, since that was where all the weighty aromas were drifting from. Galladon wouldn't be home until later; he had gone on a ski trip with friends from work but he would arrive on Christmas Eve.

“It smells so wonderful in here.” She shouted through the hallway leading to the kitchen. “Dad, I don't know what’s for dinner but I do wonder what everyone else is eating.”

“Wench, I put in far too much effort for you to inhale the whole thing and leave me the scraps.”

Brienne stopped in her tracks as she rounded into the large kitchen. Jaime was seated at the island peeling potatoes. 

Jaime.

In her home.

In her father’s kitchen.

“Blue, we were wondering when you would make it in. I was scared you missed the last ferry.” Her father’s large form swept her into a hug that lifted her from the floor. 

“Hi, Dad.” She said, sinking into the solidity of her father. Everytime she came home she felt the years melt away and she was twelve again. 

He kissed her cheek and set her back on her own two feet. “Yer fella said you were on your way, but he said your phone was out of service. What’s wrong with your phone?”

Brienne cast a glare at her ‘fella,’ a stare that held nothing but adamant and complete vexation. “Absolutely nothing is wrong with my phone, Dad.” Brienne spoke through clenched teeth. “Jaime, can I speak with you?”

Jaime held up the potato in his bad hand. “It’s just like the military, Wench. I’m on KP.”

Selwyn Tarth looked between the two people in his kitchen. “You know, now that I am not playing host anymore, I can run out to the stores before they close for the night. You two probably need some alone time. GIRLS!” He’d shouted loud enough for Jaime to jump in his seat, the knife in his good hand clattered to the counter. Brienne, however, was used to the volume of her family home. If it wasn't loud something was wrong. “Hey, Goldilocks?”

Jaime raised his head as if it were his name from birth. “Yeah, Obi Wan?”

Selwyn grinned big enough to split his face. “Keep an eye out on that bird, take in out in forty. We should be back before the timer, but if anything burns…”

“I know, I know.” Jaime waved at the taller man. “I walk the plank.”

Selwyn nodded as he wiped his hands on the dish towel from the sink.“Finish those potatoes just like I showed you, yeah? I’ll take Thing One and Thing Two with me, so’s they can stay outta your hair. GIRLS!” Selwyn shouted as he moved out of the kitchen. 

Brienne stared at the blond in her kitchen, he grinned at her as he continued to peel the tubers on his lap. “I have been meaning to ask,” he began, not even looking at her.

“What in the hell are you doing here, Jaime?” Brienne gritted.

Jaime shrugged. “That wasn't the question I had, but since you’ve asked. I thought we agreed I would come to Tarth for Christmas.”

“We agreed on nothing,” she insisted, keeping her voice in check. She hadn't heard the garage door open yet, a sure sign her father and sisters were still lurking about. 

“Did you know there are no less than ten wedding halls on Tarth? Two of them can hold over 500 guests.”

“No!” she intoned, the front door opened and closed and Brienne could hear the garage door opening. “No, you did not lie to my father.”

“What kind of person do you think I am?” he asked, plopping the potato into the bowl next to him.. His nonchalance was starting to irk her, and as she heard the garage door make it's final descent. “You have no right to be here!”

Jaime turned then, the new potato in his hand. “You’re right.” he nodded, beginning to peel with the slow awkward movements of a man unaccustomed to the task. “But you didn't exactly say no.”

Brienne opened her mouth to object, she replayed the conversation in her head. No, she had not said no, but she had not said yes either. Semantics, the Lannisters were kings of semantics. “You avoided me for four days so I couldn't say no?”

Jaime shrugged but didn’t look at her. “I thought you were mad at me.” She said in a voice far smaller than intended.

He set down the potato then and stood up. Jaime wiped his hands and sighed. “I could never be mad at you, Brienne. I just didn't want your pity.”

“I didn't feel sorry for you.” She insisted. 

He spoke from the sink as he washed his hands. “Showing up here, it was my decision, not one out of feeling sorry for me. I had places to go, Wench. I wanted to be here.”

“Why?” she asked, as she tried to ignore the pounding in her chest.

Jaime sidled next to her, his good hand slid onto her chin. “I wanted to be here with you.”

“Oh,” was all she could come up with. The pounding in her chest was too loud, the room was suddenly too small, and for some reason, the house had been set to sea. It rocked under her heels but Jaime seemed to not feel the movement. 

“We’ve been all but dating for the last year.” he said into her ear, too close. Too close for her to breathe.

“We have not.” she amended, suddenly finding the lie too much. 

He slid a finger along her cheek. “Who do you spend most of your free time with?” he asked in a voice that could melt the Wall of ancient lore. “Unless there is someone else, should I know about?”

Brienne shook her head. “N-no,” 

Jaime nodded, “Good, because all of my time has been spent with you. FOr this past year, every moment has been with you.”

Brienne shook her head. “That’s not true, you work, you go out with your brother…”

“And who am I thinking of then, Brienne? Who runs through my mind unbidden?” His other arm slid around her waist, a gentle tug and she was closer to him than her own skin. “Who invades my dreams both waking and when I am asleep?”

“I don't know?” she said quietly.

Jaime lips slid across hers for the briefest of catches, “I do.” he whispered into the corner of her mouth. 

“Jaime,” she said, Brienne’s hands clenched with wanting to touch him, to bring her hands through his ridiculously perfect hair. She wanted to draw him impossibly closer and touch every inch of his stupid, beautiful face. “When did you get here?”

Jaime pulled away from her lips, a tight smirk characteristically plastered on his face. “I’m baring my soul here, Brienne. The least you could do is stay on task.”

“No, it's just, I went to give you your gift yesterday, and you were already gone. Jaime,” She tilted her head considering the man in front of her. “Did you get here yesterday?”

“I bet my gift is better than yours.” Jaime sang as he brought his lips to hers again. “Your father has been nothing but generous in his hosting.”

Brienne could not believe the audacity. “You lied to my father.” she insisted, stepping out of his grasp.

Jaime shrugged. “I didn't have to, I told him you were coming on Friday, he already knew that. I told him I wanted to surprise you, which is true, I did and I have.” he nodded. “Whatever he assumed from there, well that’s something that you and I should work on.” He moved back to her, his arms slid around her again and his head rested upon her shoulder. “I can leave if you want,”

“No,” she shook her head, surprised at the speed of her answer. “No, my father seems to like you.”

Jaime squeaked at mention of Selwyn Tarth and made for the stove. “I am not getting left to walk the plank, not in this weather.” he cfhecked the goose in the oven, then stirred the pots on the stove. “What?” he asked at her laugh.

“You look domesticated, didn't know lions were capable of being tamed. “ She moved to help him finish the potatoes. Jaime slapped her hands away and waved her away from them. “This one is mine.” he said. 

“Did, did my father teach you how to make mashed potatoes?”

“No, your father showed me how to make your favorite mashed potatoes. Now, sit and stay outta the way, Wench. I’m not supposed to show you the secret part.””

She watched him cut, then boil the potatoes. They talked, as they usually did when they were together, but there was a difference, a third entity in the kitchen with them. Something had been set to fire as much as the potatoes had been. She hadn’t wanted to have him on Tarth, not with the questions and the strange nature of their friendship.

Now, she could not imagine having Yule on Tarth without his hefty presence there.

“Your sisters are quite amazing.” He said, he was whipping the potatoes at the counter, angled to ensure that Brienne could not see him. “Twins run on both sides of our families, something we should consider.”

“For what? She asked, getting out settings for dinner. 

Jaime waved the wooden spoon at her. “You know, later. For later. Things in twos.”

“You’re insane.” she said, shaking her head. The garage door opened and Brienne found herself oddly upset that their time alone was coming to an end. 

Jaime placed the wooden bowl of mashed potatoes on the table and grabbed her hand “I never got to ask that question.” he said quickly looking through the kitchen door, anxiously. 

“What question?” 

He angled her into the corner. “I can't tell them apart. We don't have identicals in my family, though Cersei and I looked enough alike. I think I called Ally, Ari and vice versa.” he said. “I mean, which one is Thing One, and which one is Thing Two?”

“You’re an idiot.” she smiled. 

“Okay, Okay.” He took a long pull from her lips and hugged her tight. “Just promise me that if we ever have twins, I’m allowed to paint names on foreheads.”


End file.
